


Tie Me Up in Knots

by lauren3210



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fluff, M/M, PWP, slightly cracky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-29
Updated: 2014-10-29
Packaged: 2018-02-23 01:18:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2528705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lauren3210/pseuds/lauren3210
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Harry, are you wearing a <em>Slytherin</em> tie?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tie Me Up in Knots

**Author's Note:**

> Just a quick, silly fic inspired by [this gifset.](http://heaven-is-my-hell.tumblr.com/post/101165347213/ravenclaw-queen-in-which-draco-and-harry-dress) I had way more fun writing this than I probably should have had.

Breakfast was almost over by the time Harry finally made it into the Great Hall on Friday morning. Most people had already finished eating and were milling about between the tables, books and parchment spilling across the wood in a last ditch attempt at completing homework. Harry narrowly dodged a couple of first years practising _Wingardium Leviosa_ on their leftover toast crusts and slumped down onto the bench opposite his friends, giving a grateful moan as Ron passed him a plate of sausages and Hermione directed over the last of the pumpkin juice.

 

“This is the third time this week that you’ve been late, Harry,” Hermione admonished, frowning as she sifted through her bag for her charms essay.

 

Harry shrugged and shovelled another sausage whole into his mouth. “It’s just harder getting up in the morning,” he said once he’d swallowed most of his mouthful. “Now that I’m in a room by myself.”

 

“That doesn’t explain why you were perfectly capable of getting up in the mornings before Christmas,” Hermione said sharply. “Or why you constantly look like you’ve barely had an hour’s sleep.” She stared critically at his hair. Harry lifted a hand and tried in vain to flatten it. Though it was usually a mess of wild black strands, this morning he’d been so late he hadn’t had time to even attempt to tame it.

 

“Are you having bad dreams again?” She asked, her tone an even mix between sympathy and curiosity.

 

“Nope,” Harry replied, rolling his eyes and looking to Ron, expecting to share a conspiratorial look with him about Hermione’s tendency to mother-hen them both.

  
Instead, Ron was suddenly looking a bit confused, and was staring at Harry’s throat. Harry’s hand flew up to the side of his neck - _just in case_ \- and then Ron opened his mouth. “Harry, are you wearing a _Slytherin_ tie?”

 

Hermione's eyebrows flew up as she stared first at Ron and then over at Harry. Her eyes widened as she gasped, one hand coming up to point at his throat.

 

“What? No, of course-” Harry spluttered to a halt as he looked down at himself, and saw that he was indeed wearing a green striped tie. “I... It was a spell I was... I mean, I was practising-”

 

The bell sounded for their first lesson.

 

“Oh, thank God,” Harry sighed. He really had no idea what his excuse was going to be. He grabbed another sausage before they disappeared and stuffed it into his mouth, chewing slowly so that he wouldn't be expected to carry on talking.

 

“Do you want me to fix it for you?” Hermione asked, as they joined the throng of students making their way up the staircase.

 

“I would if I were you, mate,” Ron said, clapping a hand on Harry's shoulder and looking down at the offending tie. “Merlin knows what people will say when they notice.”

 

“Yeah, thanks,” Harry said, turning to face Hermione as they reached the first landing. He stood patiently as Hermione pulled out her wand, and he finally realised just how many people walking past were giving him a second look. It wasn't that he wasn't used to that, of course, but these looks were different. And then he realised.

 

If _his_ tie had green stripes, then that would mean...

 

“Oh, fuck!”

 

Hermione stuttered over the beginning of her spell and threw him a dark look. “Language, Harry! Wait, where are you going?”

 

Harry ducked under her outstretched arm and leapt up the stairs two at a time. “Sorry,” he called down to his friends, who were standing gaping up at him. “I just remembered something!”

 

He whipped around the corner and up the next flight of stairs as Hermione yelled in an exasperated voice, “But I didn't fix your tie yet!”

 

But Harry didn't bother to slow down and explain himself; he didn't have time. If anyone noticed before he got there, he was going to be in so much trouble, and _fucking hell,_ why did Arithmancy have to be held on the bloody fifth floor?

 

Harry heaved himself into the fifth floor corridor, his glasses slipping down his nose and his bag banging painfully against his back, and slid to a halt just before the right hand turn. He could hear the Arithmancy students walking around in the hallway, waiting for Professor Vector to show up and let them into their classroom. He risked a peek around the corner.

 

“Harry! What are you doing up here?” Ernie MacMillan said. “Aren't you supposed to be in Charms about now?”

 

Harry startled, trying to ignore the pounding of his heart against his ribs. “Oh, er, yeah, I-”

 

He was saved from having to come up with another excuse by the arrival of Professor Vector, robes sweeping the floor behind her. “Don't you have a class to get to, Mr Potter?”

 

“Yes,” Harry said on a sigh of relief. He'd seen a pair of grey eyes and a flash of blond hair. “Yes, I do.”

 

“Then I'd suggest you get moving, then,” Vector said with a brisk nod, already moving through the crowd of students towards the door.

 

Harry whipped out his hand, grabbed a fistful of robes and yanked both him and his prize back around the corner and into a convenient alcove, out of sight.

 

“Harry, what the fuck?” Draco glared at him, yanking at his fingers and forcing Harry to let go of his robes.

 

“You put my tie on this morning,” Harry muttered furiously, reaching up to curl his fist through the red striped fabric, knotted perfectly just below Draco's Adam's apple.

 

“What? No I didn't, I-” Draco cut himself off as he looked down at Harry's tie. “Oh.”

 

“Yeah, _oh,”_ Harry grumbled, starting to pull on Draco's collar so that he could undo the knot. “We need to switch back, before more people notice...” He trailed off as he realised Draco wasn't bothering to help him undo their ties. Instead, he was sliding his fingers up and down Harry's chest, following the line of the Slytherin tie from his throat to his navel and back again.

 

“You like this,” Harry breathed out in awe.

 

Draco shrugged. “The colour matches your eyes.” A faint blush appeared on his pale cheeks, as though he knew exactly how sappy that statement had sounded, but still, he didn't stop trailing his fingers over Harry's chest.

 

“No, I mean, you _like_ this,” Harry repeated. And Draco did, Harry could tell. He could see the way his eyes had darkened to just a ring of grey, see the way the flush in his cheeks was travelling down past his collar, feel his breath passing his parted lips in small pants. Harry had seen all these things before, had witnessed them just last night, in fact, and he knew exactly what it meant.

 

It meant he had about two seconds before Draco crushed him against the nearest surface and stuck his hand down his trousers.

 

Sure enough, Draco reached out and grabbed Harry by the waist, slamming him back into the alcove wall behind him. Lips met his hungrily, Draco's tongue forcing its way into Harry's mouth, sliding over teeth and reacquainting itself with Harry's taste. Nimble fingers made quick work of Harry's trouser button and zipper, and Harry bucked into the feel of a slender hand curling around his dick.

 

“Fuck, Draco,” Harry gasped out, as Draco left his mouth and slid spit-slick lips down over his jaw, teeth scoring gently into the skin just above the knot in his tie.

 

“If only we had the time,” Draco replied, and then suddenly Harry was feeling slightly more bare below the waist than he had been expecting.

 

“Draco, what-” Harry cut himself off with a choke as Draco slid to his knees and swallowed Harry down in one smooth motion. “Oh, God.” Without stopping, Draco reached up with one hand and plucked the tie from under Harry's jumper, wrapping his fingers around it and pulling gently.

 

Harry thought he was going to die. The pressure from his tie around his neck was gentle but insistent, giving him the sensation that Draco was there, hand holding him in place just as they liked it when they were fucking. He stuttered out a groan as Draco pulled back slightly, licking around the head of his cock, tongue dipping into the slit before sliding back down again. Two of Draco's fingers were curled around what he couldn't get into his mouth, jerking in counterpoint and meeting his lips with every slide downwards.

 

Harry could feel his balls drawing up, and the imminent orgasm was sudden and unexpected. But then, this whole thing had been unexpected, for fuck's sake. All he'd wanted to do was exchange ties before anyone else saw, and now he was receiving the best blow job of his life. And then, Draco slid up again, pressed the flat of his tongue against Harry's frenulum and _moaned,_ and it was all Harry could do to not let his shout of completion echo through the corridor.

 

“Draco, that was, _fuck,”_ Harry muttered incoherently, as Draco slid smoothly to his feet, pulling Harry's trousers and boxers up with him. He clucked his tongue when Harry tried and failed to get his numb hands to do up his trousers, batting his hands away and doing them up for him.

 

“Do you... do you want..?” Harry flapped his hand in the direction of Draco's obvious bulge, raising his eyebrows in surprise when Draco shook his head.

 

“Save it for later, we're late for class.”

 

Draco pushed Harry back against the wall and kissed him, open mouthed and filthy, and the taste of himself on Draco's tongue was almost enough for Harry to try for round two immediately. Fuck class, he'd defeated Voldemort, what else was there left to learn? But Draco pulled away with one last nip to his bottom lip.

 

“Your room or mine tonight?” He asked.

 

“Yours,” Harry replied. “The Fat Lady keeps giving me funny looks, waiting outside for you al the time.”

 

“I'll see you in the dungeons after dinner then.”

 

Draco gave Harry one last deep, breath-stealing kiss, and then shoved away from the wall, stepping back into the corridor.

 

“Wait!”

 

Draco raised an eyebrow, one shoulder turned towards the door to his classroom.

 

“We still haven't swapped ties,” Harry whispered.

 

Draco shrugged. “You said some people had already noticed. You might as well leave it on.”

 

“But,” Harry said lamely, “How am I going to explain it?”

 

“Tell your friends your boyfriend is a bit possessive?”

 

Harry looked at him, but Draco was determinedly studying the floor. “That wouldn't necessarily mean you, though,” he said carefully, slowly. He ran his fingers over the green striped fabric hanging from his neck. “It's just a Slytherin tie.”

 

Draco hummed in thought. “You're right,” he said finally. “I should give you something that would make that clearer.” He looked up and met Harry's gaze, his eyes hesitant but his chin cocked out, defiant. “Something that says you're mine.”

 

Harry grinned.

 

+

 

Harry flopped down onto the bench with a groan and closed his eyes. It had been a mistake to think that because the Slytherin dorms were closer to the Great Hall than Gryffindor, that meant he could get another five minutes of sleep and still be on time for breakfast. He was fairly sure he had his robes on back to front.

 

“Here, Harry,” Hermione said kindly, handing over a plate of toast.

 

“Best. Friend. Ever,” Harry mumbled, reaching out with his right hand to grab blindly for the plate.

 

“What the hell is _that?”_ Ron said loudly, holding a sausage halfway up to his mouth.

 

Harry opened his eyes, startled, and looked to where Ron was pointing. On the middle finger of his right hand sat a large silver signet ring, an ornate letter _M_ embossed on the top. “Oh. That's, er-”

 

“That's my _Property of Draco Malfoy_ ring,” Draco's voice suddenly said, interrupting Harry's fumbling. He straddled the bench next to Harry and leaned in to kiss him on the cheek. When he pulled back, he had a triangle of toast from Harry's plate. The crunching sound as he bit into it was loud in the sudden silence.

 

“Well,” Hermione said, blinking dazedly. “That was unexpected.”

 

Ron didn't say anything; he was too busy choking on his sausage.

 

FIN


End file.
